What is 'Sane'
by Carry On Wayward Archer
Summary: Castiel didn't always see things- didn't always hear things. But after a traumatic accident as a child, he's become prey to his own subconscious. Each day he's gotten closer and closer to giving up, until one day a man named Dean came crashing into his life. And maybe, just maybe, he can give Cas the will to overcome, to live, and most importantly; to love. Destiel AU. Mental!Cas
1. Day Infinity In Hell

**Welcome to an all new story! This one is particularly close to my heart, and I hope you love it as much as I do. I plan on it being a long fic, so I hope you join the train with me! **

**Taken over from likeghostsinthesn0w **

**BIG thanks to my beta BlueEyes444! I can not thank you enough :)**

** Reviews and Comments are more than appreciated, and with that; enjoy.**

**(Rating will be changed to M in later chapters)**

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**Day Infinity**** In Hell**

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**I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad**

**The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had**

**I find it hard to tell you 'cause I find it hard to take**

**When people run in circles it's a very very**

**Mad World**

They'd come to him every day and every night, the demons in his head; dance in front of him and show their blackened eyes, twisted limbs, and their pale sickly skin. They'd laugh, the noise piercing his delicate ear drums. They'd often tease and taunt the poor man, the same way they'd done since he was just a boy, since the...that night. They often called him names, told him to do evil and terrible things.

He tried to ignore them. He'd been trying for years. Some days they wouldn't bother him at all, but those days were few and far between. And now as Castiel sat on the edge of his bed, with the voice of the girl he'd dubbed 'Meg' muttering obscenities at him; he started to think he should just end it all. Slit his wrists like the demons told him, or hang himself. He could overdose, or just step out into traffic. Maybe jump off a building. He'd always wanted to fly, and they said falling was the same as flying, except with a more permanent destination. At least then it would end.

The woman laughed at him.

"Going to off yourself, Cassie?" she sniggered. "I knew you couldn't wait to start eternity with me!"

A chorus of voices joined in with her; men, women, even the evil bastard children. Their faces loomed at the windows of his room, threatening to burst in at any moment. Castiel sprung up from the bed, and went over to the wall. After a stare off with the face of a new, particularly harsh featured man, he gripped the windowsill, and as the voices got louder and teeth gnawed at bleeding lips, he hit his head into the bare brick wall of his apartment repeatedly, until blood trickled down his face, blurring his vision. It was a pain he was used to, sometimes it was the only thing that would make them stop. He would rather this than take his medication. They faded and their shrieks along with them, peace settling over Cas.

After cleaning up the nasty wound on his head, he changed out of his wreaking nightwear, and bundled them into a brown paper bag. He pulled on his jeans, white tee and green hooded sweatshirt and rushed out the door. On his way to the laundrette he kept his eyes to the floor, and his hood pulled up to conceal the mark from wandering, judgmental eyes. His hands were trembling around the bag- he hated being in public. But trips to the launderette were necessary, and as he opened the door he braced himself for the ring of the bell above it. It was a shrill, cruel noise, and he despised it. Cas dashed over to his usual machine, number 12, and hurried to load it. He fumbled around in his pocket for a coin to get the wash going, but he found his pocket was empty. Puzzled, he checked the other pocket. But that was empty too. Castiel continuously patted his pockets, convinced that something would turn up if he patted hard enough. The man next to him looked down, wanting to offer his quarters for the machine, but the frantic expression on Castiel's face scared him.

Castiel was worried, he never forgot his money- not ever. He earned it himself, he had a job at home making spreadsheets and doing data analysis for Google. It meant he didn't have to leave home, he didn't have to talk to anyone, and he could protect the world from the monsters. From himself. But none of that mattered if he didn't remember to bring his money with him when he was out.

The man looked at him again, concern rocking his features. His eyebrows pinned together, and he reached into his back pocket for some change. Castiel noticed him and shuddered. The man towered over him, and he held an intimidating stance, far to confident for liking.

"Here, take this." He said, holding out the coins in his hand for Castiel to take.

Cas shook his head minutely and continued to search his pockets. The man sighed, and leaned across to Castiel's machine, his biceps rippling underneath his khaki tee shirt. Well that just intimidated Cas even more.

"Take it. Please."

Castiel considered it for a moment, his eyes roaming over the way the man palmed the change in a roughly calloused hand. He debated whether clean pyjamas were worth the torment he'd get later on for talking to this man, and a sharp inhale of his clothes' scent told him all he needed to know, so he gingerly accepted the money, albeit reluctantly.

"Th-tha-nk y-you." Was all Castiel could manage. His throat was hoarse and croaky, he didn't often speak out loud. The man smiled, completely oblivious to the stutter, before turning and soon turned back to his own laundry. Cas found himself distracted by the man though, he kept looking over from under the safety of his hood, peeking at the 6ft Adonis with a leather jacket slung over his shoulder. He seemed a nice enough guy, but then again… _he'd seemed like a nice man to_. Besides if he knew anything about Castiel, he'd run for the proverbial hills taking his gorgeous green eyes with him. The detergent sat on the shelf below the washer, so Castiel leant down to pick it up, inadvertently causing his hood to slip down and away from his face. The sharp cold air hit Castiel's exposed ears and the nape of his neck, sending shivers wracking through his body. Cas's fingers scrambled to pull his hood back up, but it was too late, the man saw the massive cut on his head, still shiny with oozing blood.

"Shit man, are you okay?! What happened?"

"I'm fine,' he croaked. _Please leave me_.

The man shook his head, "Shit. What happened? Come on, I'll drive you to the ER, it isn't far away..."

Castiel could not hear what the man said next, could not feel a pair of large hands on his slender shoulders, all he knew was that his head felt like it would explode, his blood rushed through his body and he began to twitch. Not just any twitch, but those kinds of twitches that appeared to the ordinary passerby as someone who belonged in a mental house. It was violent and unnerving to watch. Excruciating for Cas to bear. If you've ever seen video clips of WW1 soldiers suffering from post-traumatic stress ticks, well, that was what Castiel got...just before the whoreson demons emerged. He knew that this guy would be freaking out, and so would the other people in the launderette. He braced himself for the eerie feeling that was about the settle over him, the calm before the storm. Castiel knew he had to leave, he didn't want to put this people in danger, but his new 'friend' was stopping him. He met the man's eyes and tried desperately to get out of his vice like grip.

"I need to leave, you don't understand. These people are in danger if I stay."

The man was confused as all hell, and his face showed it. "I don't know what the hell is going on man, you need to calm down."

He lacked conviction, and Castiel saw his chance. He wriggled frantically and shoved the carts of laundry out of his way, catapulting himself through the open door. The voices came first. They always came first. They began to taunt and tease him for not being strong enough to deal with such a simple task, their disgusting faces adopted the folk on the street. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him, till he was back at his apartment building.

The stupid bitch who called herself Meg was sporting a hangman's noose dangling from the top floor banister where her eyes were pinned on Castiel as he climbed the stairs, stupid elevator was out of order. Again.

"Go away Meg." he muttered as he reached his door.

"Why on earth would I do that sweetie? It's me and you time now..." Her voice drifted through the air from her spot on the staircase. She then stood next to him, rubbing against him, her hand on his midriff. She fingered the fabric of his hoodie before pulling enticingly at the drawstrings. She made his skin crawl. He shoved her away, repulsed to the core at her forward actions.

'She's not real, she's not real, she's not real,' he repeated over and over again, hoping that if he said it enough she would disappear.

Castiel often chanted this in his head, but found out that the other's voices were drowning him out. Strangely, they were quiet today. Just him and Meg. That was probably why his body had reacted the way it had, to the man seeing his head. Meg had noticed.

"Leave me alone. You're not real, you can't hurt me."

She burst into hysterical laughter.

"Oh Castiel, I think you'll find...that I most _definitely_ can." She ran at him full force before bursting right as she touched him.

Castiel held his breath and counted until he got back under control. He knew she would be in there waiting for him. He gently rested his forehead on the door; trying with everything inside him to keep it together, but the more days that went by, the harder it was to continue to cope. He couldn't keep doing this, he was breaking. He'd been able to deal with it until the recent escalation. They'd appear once a week on any random day. Any random day except Thursday. Some weeks, though, would be more frequent, and likewise some weeks he was completely alone. Now it was as many times as they wanted a day. Even on his cherished Thursdays. The sinking feeling in his shriveled heart was unbearable.

Castiel knew that he was going to have to see Dr. Singer, and that made him feel absolutely sick. For one, that meant getting help, which was one thing they never let him do. Going to see him always made it worse. But Singer would also find out he hadn't taken his medication in a year, and he would be in the doghouse. But it had to be done. He was tired of it all. Tired of being alive, and definitely tired of fighting, if he was to be honest with himself. His body was 23, but in reality, and in the way he ached to his very core, he was 50 years older than than that. Pulling out his phone, he speed dialed Singer. The feeling of his body growing heavier made Castiel want to buckle to the floor, but he stood tall. It was all he could do to keep what's left of his sanity. He knew Dr Singer would chew his head off; it was inevitable. But that was better than anything Meg could throw at him. He hoped. She'd actually thrown a dead ferret at him once and the blood had stained his skin for days.

_'Breathe Cas, breathe.'_ He thought. _'Don't think about her.'_

The secretary answered on the second ring. "Dr. Singer's office, how can I help you?"

"Hi Joanna, it's Castiel Novak. I doubt you remember me… Is it possible for me to get an appointment Doctor Singer today?"

He heard the ruffling of paper.

"Sure thing sweetie, it's you're lucky day, there's a slot open right now."

"Thank you Jo."

Jo could hear him smile through the phone, and then there was the telltale sounds of a disconnection. It broke her heart. She did remember Castiel; he was such a good man. She knew he didn't deserve the illness that was inflicted upon him from what she gathered hearing his and Dr Singer's conversations. She placed the phone back on its holster, and then sent Singer a page. She scanned her Filofax with today's appointments. After penciling in Castiel, Singer only had one other patient by the name of "Winchester D." She pondered what the 'D' stood for, but not for very long, and went to get herself a nice mug of coffee.

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**And that is Chapter 1! The next chapter will be up shortly, but as I haven't 100% finished it, if you guys have any plot bunny suggestions, I'd love to hear them. Review!**

**~ Magnolia**


	2. Help

**It's an update!**

**This chapter is partially that of ****likeghostsinthesn0w, and it will be the last of which I co-write. **

******Once again, thank you SO much ****BlueEyes444** for beta-ing by work!

******Reviews keep me sane! ;)**

**********(Rating will be changed to M in later chapters)**

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******Help**

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**There's no tellin' what might happen when you get to the end of a chain reaction.**

**It's girl meets boy; boy meets girl, all around this random and crazy world**

**tryin' to make sense out of coincidence.**

"Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Doctor Singer. I can only apologize for not have come to see you sooner."

While Castiel's words were clearly spoken, his hands were trembling, and his knees were up by his chest with his chin weighing down on them. His whole body screamed unease and discomfort.

"It's no problem Castiel. No problem at all. Now, when did you last visit me?" As Doctor Singer began to look back through his sheets, Castiel piped up.

"It's been two years and a month, February 3rd 2011. At 4pm..." He trailed off. He knew Dr. Singer already knew this, and he'd set himself up for it.

"That's a very long time Castiel. I signed you for medication, but not to last that long. You should have run out..."

"7 months ago," Cas muttered, playing with the loose threads of his sleeves and doing his best to avoid all eye contact with his doctor- and definitely not telling him that it didn't matter that his prescription had run out, because he hadn't taken them in a year anyway.

"Ziprasidone, if I remember correctly?"

The young man nodded. The older sighed.

"Why have you come to see me, Mr Novak?"

"I'm not Mr Novak."

"What? Castie-"

"I am not Mr Novak. I am not Mr Novak. I am not Mr Novak! NOT, I AM NOT, I AM NOT MR NOVAK." Castiel began to thrash in his seat, hands clawing at his chest and throat.

Dr. Singer sprang to his feet before Castiel could say or do anything else. He placed the flat of his palm on his shoulder, and looked him in the eye. "Breathe with me Castiel. Breathe with me. In, 2, 3, 4. Out, 2, 3, 4."

It took about five full minutes before Castiel stilled in his seat and for his cries to dull down. He continued to whimper his defense, and Singer mentally scalded himself for referring to Cas as Mr. Novak.

He'd made this mistake before.

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Dean fidgeted in the brown leather chair, shifting his position every few seconds to avoid leaving a print. He was always conscious of that, like what if his ass left a really fat print? He liked to think he had a decent butt and didn't want to leave any evidence suggesting otherwise. He glanced up at the clock on the far wall, squinting slightly to see the time. His appointment was supposed to have been nine minutes ago. Jo smiled sympathetically from behind her desk, seeing how uncomfortable he seemed to be. She crossed the space between them, and settled down in the chair across from him.

"Do you want a cup of coffee, Mr. Winchester? Or maybe a soft drink? Or a snack?"

Dean returned the smile, then shook his head. "No thanks, I'm alright." As if in an afterthought, Dean turned back to her and smiled, "And you can call me Dean."

"If you're sure? I don't mind,' she paused. "Dean." She smiled again after saying his name, but it was a much brighter smile that reached her eyes and caused her nose to scrunch up a little.

He chuckled and leaned forward, placing his chin in his hands. "You know how much longer Bobby is gonna be?"

The use of Doctor Singer's first name threw Jo off slightly, but she shook her head. Dean sighed in response.

Curious as to what would cause a patient to call the doctor buy his first name, Jo hesitantly asked, "So do you know Doctor Singer well?"

"Yeah..." Dean answered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, he knew my um… my family. He was like a dad to me and to my brother, Sam. Hell, he _was_ our dad. He had to pull a few strings apparently, to have me as a, uh, patient…given our relationship. But at the end of the day, the board respected him too much to fuck with him."

Jo sat silently, listening to Dean. In the end all she said was, "I see." She really didn't want to press him any further. She did however wonder about the relationship between Dean and Robert, or 'Bobby', and why Dean needed to see him. He didn't seem problemed, not like the other patients.

She left Dean in the waiting room, and went to the small kitchen down the corridor to grab a cup of her favorite drug. She loved the kitchen with its yellow peeling wallpaper and old wooden paneling, even the humming noise of the refrigerator. It reminded her of the house she grew up in. Well, more specifically the upper floors of the bar her family owned. Their kitchen had been almost the same. Her mother never could afford to fix it, as she'd rather pay the bills and ensure Jo had everything she needed then spruce up a kitchen.

When she returned to the waiting room, she buzzed the intercom to Dr. Singer's office. When there was no answer, she adopted a perplexed expression and tried again. Nothing. She glanced over at Dean who was starting to get restless and fidgety. Taking a sip of her steaming coffee, she waited a few more seconds and buzzed again. More silence.

Dean was getting more agitated by the minute, and had now taken to standing to keep it at bay. This almost distracted Jo from the task at hand. He was tall, taller than she'd expected, at least 6ft. And he was huge, his torso and shoulders were incredibly broad, and she would have bet everything she owned that the rest of him was just as delicious as what she could see at present. She had to clear her throat before involuntarily flicking her hair, (it just happened ok. Call it a girl reflex.) Pressing on the intercom one more time, Jo tried again for Dr. Singer.

"WHAT IS IT JO?"

Bobby's reaction startled her. She didn't quite know what to say. He'd never shouted at her before now. He'd called her an idjit once or twice, but she'd come to think of it as a term of endearment.

"I have a Dean Winchester here. He's been waiting for an appointment that should have started 15 mi-"

"Ah shoot. Send him in Jo."

He disconnected before she could say anything else. Slightly startled, she turned to see Dean already standing and waved her hand in the direction of the door. "He's all yours."

The door opened from the other side before Dean could grasp the handle, and he was met with startling blue. Dean's eyes widened and he stepped back quickly. It was the guy from the launderette! The crazy one with the huge gash on his head. Well, he was in a psych's office so obviously Dean wasn't wrong with the crazy part. That shit had freaked him the fuck out. All he'd tried to do was offer him some change and help for the wound, but the guy had flipped! The whole launderette had been watching and the whole thing left Dean incredibly embarrassed. Needless to say, Dean was a bit wary of the man in front of him.

Crystal blue eyes widened dramatically when he finally took notice of Dean. The man's hands began to tremble, and his fingers desperately fumbled for his sleeves, as though trying to conceal himself as thoroughly and as effectively as possible. Dean couldn't help but be attracted to him though. The intensity of his eyes was alarmingly beautiful, and he couldn't help but feel sucked in by their depth. His hair didn't escape the analysis either. The way his nearly black hair was tousled to perfection. Like sex hair. Like I-just-had-the-best-sex-of-my-life sex hair. Dean just wanted to run his fingers through it. It's not like he could help it, he'd always dug the whole vulnerable look, and this guy definitely had that down. But he had a worrying frame, something he'd picked up in hindsight from the launderette incident. The guy was bony as hell. Dean just wanted to take him out for a beer and some pie.

Bobby's eyebrows knotted in mild confusion at the looks passing between the two men, but just ushered Castiel past Dean and out into the corridor. Dean could hear them muttering.

"I want you to come see me tomorrow ok? Promise me you'll be here Castiel."

Cas nodded, his eyes flickering back to the man from the launderette. Bobby noticed the exchange again and asked what was going on between them. "I just, I…uh… we met today at the launderette..."

Bobby nodded as Cas trailed off, realizing that Dean was the one who's gripped Castiel's arms to try to keep him steady before he began to freak out. What Dean probably didn't know was that he had left large purple bruises on the lightly tanned skin. Dean often didn't know his own strength, and well, Castiel bruised like a peach.

"Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow. And thank you Doctor. I will take my medication this time. I promise."

Bobby nodded, doubt plaguing his mind. Castiel would never take that medication. Not really. Bobby thought perhaps he needed someone in his life to be a reason to take it. It would probably be the only way to ensure Castiel took better care of himself. But he was also aware of the 5 million problems that came with that. He patted the younger man on the shoulder, and sent him in the direction of the door. Castiel smiled softly, before turning and walking out, pausing a moment as he sidestepped Dean on the way.

"Hey old man," Dean said, arms open for a hug. Bobby couldn't help the grin that spread across his face, and he re-entered the room to hug the man he still thought of as a young boy.

"Hey there, you big idjit!"

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**Ok, I know this chapter is short, but it had to be on on its own, so ya. BUT, I had several days of standardized testing this week ( ew :'( ) so if my beta can get the next chapter back to me by tomorrow, I can upload it this weekend! And I SWEAR it's longer. Please please PLEASE tell me what you think! Your opinions matter to me so much! With that, adieu!**

**(Song was 'Coincidence' by Aaron Kelly)**

**~ Magnolia**


	3. Payback

**Yay for an update!I personally really like this chapter, so... ya!**

**And it's longer then the last one like promised!**

**Um, Trigger Warning: If blood and other forms of mental torture is a thing for you... then don't read this chapter**

**Currently un-betad**

**Hope you like it!**

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**Payback**

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**Yeah you bleed just to know you're alive**

**And I don't want the world to see me,**

**Because I don't think that they'd understand**

**When everything's made to be broken-**

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*1 week later*

Castiel groaned and struggled weakly to his feet. It had been a week since he had gone to Dr. Singer's office, and Meg and the others were staying true to their word when it came to making him pay for getting help. The Ziprasidone had long since been flushed down the toilet, but that wasn't enough- he should've known, really. He was weak- to go and get help, and now he was paying the price.

The second he came back after his second visit, they'd been waiting. His apartment had been turned into a death trap. The rotting flesh of god knows what was splattered over every surface, and the _smell_. The rancid flesh was lying in clumps and strips over everything, the counters, the walls, the floor, _everything_. 'No' Castiel thought, '_No. Please. Anything but my-'_ Before he could even complete the thought he lurched his way forward and into his office, doing his best to block out the smell of the rotting meat around him. When he reached the door that led to his office, he took a deep breath and let out a quick prayer before putting his hand on the red door knob and letting himself in.

Blood was dripping off the counters and crusting on the floor. With barely contained horror, Castiel let his eyes travel to his life support.

_No_.

His laptop, the one thing that kept him from having to go out, the thing that supplied him with money and food and allowed him to keep a house over his head and keep people from coming to call on him.

_Why did they have to get his laptop? _

Oozing out of the keyboard were trails of congealed blood. He just watched, horrified, as one trail thickened and stretched. It grew- until what seemed like an eternity later it broke off, and fell to the floor with a sickening splash. Nauseated, Castiel fled, running back down the hallway and to the door, needing to get out of whatever sickening joke they had decided to play on him.

He moved to turn the knob to just _get out_, but it wasn't turning. Both his hands and the knob were slick with blood, and he just needed out _now_. Castiel started to panic and pawed at the door wildly.

_Trapped_.

The sickly smell of the flesh was starting to overwhelm him, and he started to throw himself against the door over and over again. At one point over the ringing in his head he heard someone screaming. Loudly. He didn't even have time to register that it was him before he slipped and was sent crashing to the floor.

Red. Everything was red.

The world slowly stopped spinning, and Castiel found himself face to face with a lump of bloodied torn flesh. Before he could even come to terms with that alone, a maggot squeezed itself out of a fold in the skin, letting loose a trail of blood in its wake. It surged forward, and wriggled over the length of meat until it toppled into the sea of blood around it. Slowly, more and more started coming out of the carcass. They congregated, and started forming a mass of putrid sentience.

Slowly, the pile of them grew, their milky white skin turning the same color red as the blood around them. They pushed against one another and started moving, coming closer and closer to Castiel's frozen body. There were hundreds of them now, all covered in tiny bits of skin and things he didn't want to even think about. They covered him, and wormed their way into every crevice available. He could see their faces, their black beady eyes and their mouths filled with mashes of flesh. They nuzzled their way under his clothes, and wriggled until he was completely swaddled in their squirming bloodied bodies.

Castiel's vision began to fog over and swirl. His stomach pitched; and Cas had seconds to lurch to his hands and knees before acid clawed its way up his throat to join the pools of red at his feet. His head blurry and buzzing, his ears ringing, and his throat burning, Castiel found himself completely gone to the world. Muscles abandoning him, he collapsed back to the floor, landing in his own bile and back into the mass of maggots and blood.

Lying there, completely vulnerable to whatever else they had planned for him. Castiel could only wait for them to show their faces. He had no energy left, no ounce of will or ability to do anything but take whatever they decided he deserved.

He didn't have to wait long.

Over the ever-present ringing cascading through his skull, a new sound came into play. He could hear the faint laughter of the demon that so often appeared to him. Her heeled boots clicked down the hall, getting louder every second. From his view on the floor, he could only watch as she sidled up to him, and crouched down, looking him dead in the eye. She turned her head a little to the right in mock concern.

"How you doing, Clarence? You don't look so good. Do you not like your welcome present?"

Once again the world started swirling and darkening around him. This time he welcomed it, as it was the only form of escape he was going to get. Right as he was about to fall into the fog that was dragging him under, Meg laughed and reached forward, yanking him up by his neck and leveling him in front of her eyes.

"Oh no you don't, Clarence. You see, I'm a bit bored at the moment, and I think it's time you and I play a game. It'll be fun! Don't conk out on me now! You wouldn't want to leave me alone, would you?" she cackled then, clearly ecstatic with the way things were going.

"It's going to be a _great_ week. You'll see!"

* * *

Every day since coming home to the death trap had been no better than the last. When his head stopped swirling and the world around him began to make sense again; the maggots were gone, as was all traces of the blood in the room around him. He struggled to his feel and all but ran to the shower to wash off the blood and vomit that was quickly drying and sticking to his every pore.

Castiel threw himself into the bathroom and brokenly turned the shower on. Freezing water pelted from the showerhead, and Castiel quickly stripped out of his blood crusted and soaked clothes and stepped in, huddling himself into the corner of the stall until the water warmed up. Slowly, after some of the heat had soaked back into his locked muscles, he shifted until he was under the steaming showerhead. The blood rolled off his shoulders and hair and collected in the bottom of the stall, turning the water a sickly shade of pink. Doing his best to ignore what he was doing, Castiel raised his hands to his hair and frantically started running his fingers through it, dislodging masses of… things and other questionable substances as fast as he could, and doing his best to keep his stomach level when he heard the unmistakable splashes and thunks when they hit the ground.

As soon as he felt like his hair was free, he started shivering deeply, his whole body rocking and heaving. He lashed out and grabbed the lip of the soap stand and gripped it for all it was worth. With a locked jaw, Castiel squeezed his eyes closed and did his best to breathe evenly.

Slowly the world stopped spinning and Cas was able to finish washing. He kept his eyes closed and blindly reached for the soap. When his fingers trailed over the familiar slippy surface, he closed his fingers around it and brought it to his body. With quick, precise movements, Castiel lathered himself and stepped under the water once more.

The thick, creamy liquid splattered onto his shoulders and oozed its way down, sliding over his slick body and splattering onto the tile below. The unmistakable smell of sex mixed with the heat of the room- and wait _what_?

Castiel's eyes flew open to view the scene around him. White, thick fluid sputtered out of the showerhead and coated his face and body. With utter horror, Cas staggered backwards, wildly pushing the stuff out of his face and slapping it off his body. His momentum caught up to him then, and he slipped. Castiel crashed to the ground, catching his head on the soap stand in the process. With a muted groan, Castiel rolled himself into a ball and clutched his throbbing head in his hands. When he looked up, the water was back to normal, if not cold.

With shaky movements, Castiel quickly ran himself under the cold shower and dried off. Clutching the towel to himself, Cas hesitantly opened the bathroom door and glanced into the hall.

_Nothing._

Everything was back to the way he had left it. The walls were clean, the halls were clear; nothing was disturbed. Castiel took a deep breath and let it out slowly, allowing himself to feel it all the way down to his toes. Shakily, yet more solid than before, Cas headed to his room and closed the door. He looked around it then, as if to check to make sure everything was normal, and in its place. His bed was made, his side table was meticulously organized with his books in a neat pile to the left stacked largest to smallest, and with a glass of water filled to the halfway mark on a small coaster closest to the bed. Relaxing at the familiarity, Castiel went to his closet and opened it. His few belongings were organized by type, use, and color; each piece folded neatly and directly on the crease in their designated sections.

Quickly, Castiel pulled out a pair of sweat pants and an oversized shirt and slipped them on. He would have to clean his hoodie and get it dry soon, if he wanted to have at least a semi-normal day. He exited his room then, and went to the kitchen.

_Empty._

Still on guard, Castiel went over to the pantry to try and find something edible, or at least not expired. He pulled out a loaf of bread, and counted it at least a small victory that is was only slightly stale. He turned around and put it in the toaster. To wait out the time, Castiel prepped some coffee, and in no time he had a piping hot cup in one hand and a piece of toast in the other. Castiel guided himself to the table and sat down heavily, resigning himself to drinking his coffee and eating in peace.

During the time that it took for Cas to drain the cup of coffee, he relaxed into the idea that after last night and this morning's episodes, Meg would leave him in peace. Castiel almost smiled at that, and went to put another piece of bread in the toaster.

In a few moments, he heard the cheerful little 'ding!' that announced the readiness of the toast. Once he got it, he put it on his plate and proceeded to butter it in practiced motions. After it was spread evenly and to ever corner of the bread, Castiel set the knife down and lifted the bread to his lips.

While he ate, he preoccupied himself with looking out the semi-closed blinds at the street before him. The runners and the cyclists would go by every few moments, taking full advantage of the sidewalk available. Castiel's chewing slowed, as he watched, and presently noticed an odd texture in the bread. Cautiously, Cas bit down on the object, and felt if not heard the _squish_-

Revulsion washed through Cas and he spit his food onto the plate. Right in the middle of the bite was a mash of three or four maggots, pathetically wriggling their half mutilated bodies. Half delirious, Castiel glanced at the toast he was almost halfway through eating. Maggots moved and squirmed under the sheen of butter and would every now and then fall out and land onto the plate. Cas could _feel_ the ones moving in his stomach, and he promptly ran to the trashcan and threw up what little he had eaten.

"Rise and shine, Clarence!" As if on cue, Meg came strolling into the kitchen. Grimacing, Castiel rinsed off his mouth and turned to face her.

"What do you want, Meg?"

"Nothing!" Meg declared, innocently. She then gestured over to the toast on the table, still squirming with bugs. "You going to finish that?"

Castiel only glared at her. Meg shrugged, and wondered over to the abandoned toast, bringing in to her lips easily. She took a large bite and chewed noisily, taking care to swirl the food around in her mouth obscenely.

Trying not to feel nauseated again, Castiel turned away from her, waiting for Meg to finish and state why she was here, if she had a purpose at all.

"Oh Clarence, don't ignore me like that! It was a joke! We're going to have a good time. I _swear_."

* * *

Meg stayed with him for the next week, never truly leaving him alone. The majority of the day Castiel found himself in a ball in a corner of the room, holding himself as tightly as possible and praying for it all to end. Every time he went to eat he went to eat he would find the food crawling with maggots, or halfway through decomposing with fermenting juices collecting around it. He didn't have much luck on the drink field either, it was all blood.

After a while, he just stopped trying.

She wouldn't let him eat, wouldn't let him drink, and wouldn't let him sleep. Castiel was beginning to wonder what he _could_ do. No sooner had he thought it that a noose cracked down from the ceiling and hung in front of him.

_Oh._

On day four, Castiel finally gave in to sleeping. He had been walking down the hallway when the ground just got closer. And then it wasn't the cold, wooden floor, it was a bed. A king bed. One with 2000 count sheets and with a mattress so soft…

Castiel awoke to being flung onto the ceiling.

Meg stood under him, positively livid with fury. "What is your problem?! You agreed you wouldn't go to sleep! So I come back, ready to have a lovely chat, and where are you?"

Meg started throwing him back and forth in the air, slamming him into the wall with every pause. "Where are you but _sleeping_!"

The others appeared next to her then, distorted faces laughing and jeering up at him. Occasionally, one would flick their hand to send him crashing into another wall over and over again, drawing out shrieks of pleasure from the crowd below. Slowly, Castiel lost everything; he couldn't see, couldn't hear, and couldn't breathe. The only thing he really knew was the pain.

"What are you doing Castiel!?" Meg screeched, "Flying from the rafters, I guess that's all fags like you do anyways, huh?!"

Castiel felt his nose shatter then, as she threw him into the wall. He felt the hot tears stream down his bloody face, stinging whenever they ran into one of his cuts.

"Please. Please I'm not- I'm not a fag. I'm not gay. I'm not gay! Meg PLEASE! I'M NOT! DAD? DAD I'M YOUR SON! PLEASE BELIEVE ME! DAD I'M NOT! I WOULDN'T! DAD PLEASE! NOT GAY. I'M NOT GAY! NOT. GAY…"

Castiel's voice grew louder and louder, until he was practically screeching. He felt his throat rip and split at the seams, but he didn't care. He _needed _him to understand. He yelled until nothing came out but a strangled cry. He screamed until his eyes puffed over and his ears burst.

Slowly, Meg lowered the catatonic man onto the floor. She looked at him then, eyes black and emotionless as he lay there unresponsive.

"Ok enough!" Meg yelled, kicking Castiel in the side. Hard. "Clarence, I think you've learned your lesson, ok? I forgive you. Just promise me you won't try and pull something like that again, ok?

* * *

"Well Clarence, it's been fun. I feel like we've bounded a lot more, you know? We've settled some of our differences, and I think that next time we meet will be better for it. But I've been on holiday for too long- and I think it's time to get back. Don't worry! I'll be back soon! Don't get into any trouble now!"

Meg stood before Castiel, though no one would really be able to recognize him. His face was thinner, and his ribs and collar bones stood out. He looked shrunken, and his clothes hung from his body loosly, barely holding on. That wasn't the only thing different about him, though. His eyes were dead, haunted. His skin was almost translucent, and his eyes looked hollowed and sunken in.

_Like he was already dead._

She slid up to hin then, grinning wildly. "And I'd hope this isn't just me, but I'd like to think that maybe… you and I, maybe we've gotten closer? You know, on a more personal level?"

She reached out for him and took his hands, choosing to ignore the full body flinch it evoked, and placed them on her waist, stepping closer. Her eyes glinted, and she leaned in, brushing her lips to the shell of his ear.

"Don't you think?"

Slowly, Meg turned her head and trailed her cold lips across his jaw, relishing in the way Castiel's muscles jumped and shrank away from her touch. Finally, she settled on his lips. She crushed their bodies together, wrapping her arms around his neck and running her hands through the hair at the nape of his neck for purchase. Meg trailed her tongue across his lips before dipping in, tracing her tongue along his. Castiel felt cold burrow into his bones- coating him with liquid distress. The cold seeped into him, and Castiel flung his eyes open, wary to the next stage of her torture, but found himself alone in the room.

Not quite remembering what he should be doing, Castiel wandered back to his room and sat on his abandoned bed. The hunger was clawing at his stomach and his throat felt rough and broken, but eating wasn't an option right then. Just the thought of putting something in his mouth was almost enough to make him puke. His skin crawled, and the images of the bugs and decay flashed through his brain, effectively shutting down the idea of eating for any time soon. They had been on _everything_.

He felt disconnected, which was more than he expected to feel at this point, and laid down on the forgotten mattress, not even bothering to take off his clothes- he didn't have the energy. Castiel closed his eyes, relishing in the blackness. It felt like he was floating...

A chorus of horns blasted through his house, followed by a resounding crash. Castiel shot up in his bed, clutching at the blanket.

_No no no no. You said you were gone. You said you'd leave me alone!_

Castiel sat there, his grip on the blankets being the only thing keeping him from shooting off the edge. After a few moments, his heart rate slowly started to lower in halting progressions. He sat there, not knowing whether it was ok or not to go back to bed. The door made up his mind for him. A loud ring shot through the house, followed quickly by four or five more rapid-fire rings.

Castiel shot off his bed and ran at the door. The last time he kept Meg waiting…

When he opened the door, a man almost fell into the room. He was sweaty, and breathing heavily. Scared, Castiel stumbled back, distancing himself from the strange man in front of him. Except…

Hesitantly, Castiel whispered, "Hello"

The man looked up then, breath slightly back under control. "Hi. Um, I'm Dean, Dean Winchester. There was an accident right outside, and I don't have my phone. Can I borrow yours to call the cops? It's urgent. I think, shit, I think someone got hurt."

* * *

**So ya! Chapter 3! A lot more was supposed to happen in this chapter and this was only supposed to be a side thing, but then what do you know! It turned into a whole chapter that took over everything and pushed the rest aside. Ah well! As is writing!**

**Song was Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls (Though Kellin Quinn's cover is amazing and if you guys haven't heard it you should check it out)**

**Thanks so much for the feedback so far! I love it and I love you and it makes me want to keep on writing- so thank you**

**Reviews make updates come faster!**


	4. Commonplace

**Time for some Dean POV stuff!**

**This chapter is set at the same time as chapter 3**

**Currently un-betad**

**This chapter has been on and off last weekend and I had like 50 million technical difficulties- but it is up now, and hopefully to stay.**

**(rating will change to M in later chapters)**

* * *

**Commonplace**

* * *

**Hey Satan, payed my dues**  
**Playing in a rocking band**  
**Hey Momma, look at me**  
**I'm on my way to the promised land**  
**I'm on the highway to hell**  
**And I'm going down, all the way down**  
**I'm on the highway to hell**

* * *

The last chords of _Highway to Hell_ rang through the car. Dean lowered his first from the air and placed it back on the wheel, maneuvering the car until it was once again fully in his own lane

The second the song ended he felt the twinges of discomfort pulling at his chest. It wasn't unexpected- it happened every time he had to go to one of those stupid therapist sessions, but it still made him feel all anxious and jumpy and one hundred percent off his game. He hated having to go there, even if it was Bobby who was his therapist. If it had been anyone else, he would have stopped going the day after the court mandate required it. Even still, the appointments always left his feeling raw and exposed, like he was strung out on a rack or some shit.

Dean pulled into his apartment complex and smoothly rolled his baby into the nearest spot. With a wide grin, he mentally fist bumped himself for getting a spot right in front of his building. After cheering himself on for a second, his thoughts flicked back to the session and nerves sprung through his system. His muscles tensed and he ducked his head, in every way adopting a defensive stance. 'A good shower is all I need to relax', he thought.

Normally, the thought of the hot water hitting his skin and working its way into his bones was enough to clear his head and get him back to normal, but today just wasn't doing it for him. He needed to _move_. Frustrated at how annoying he felt, Dean slammed his hand onto the wheel; hard. Immediately following the outburst, Dean stroked the wheel and inwardly apologized profusely. _I'm sorry baby. You didn't do anything wrong. It won't happen again. I promise. _

As another burst of fight-or-flight adrenaline rushed through him, Dean cursed and turned his car back on, forfeiting the beloved parking spot in favor of going to work some extra hours at the garage. 'Sides, overtime pays pretty well' Dean thought, sounding resigned even in his head.

He pulled out of the lot and turned back on to the road, alternating between impatiently tapping his hand on the side of the wheel and running his hand through his hair and down his face. He needed to get his hands on something, and he needed that like, 5 years ago. Being under the hood of a car covered in grease and sweat was his element. Being stripped down and viewed under a microscope- wasn't.

10 minutes later of only slightly-over-the-speed-limit driving and he was home. Dean jumped out of his car and headed out back, pausing briefly to stretch his cramped muscles until he heard the satisfying pop. He worked his way through the piles of gears and old tires to get to the wreck he had been charged with fixing. On his way over, he checked in with Garth, his strange new boss. He had taken over for his old boss about a month ago, and he was full of quirky mannerisms that never failed to stump him.

"Any luck fixing that pile of crap?" Gath asked, gesturing over to the barely distinguishable lump of a car.

Groaning, Dean just turned around and headed over to the wreck. Looking at the utter disaster, he couldn't help but wonder why its owner didn't just let it go. The cost of repairing the thing would be far more than just buying a new one. It wasn't even a particularly good car.

2 hours later, Dean pushed out from under the hood. He wiped his hands on a soiled rag and stuck it in the back pocket of his equally soiled old coveralls. Slowly, the car was turning back into what would one day be drive-able. The long and tedious job of repairing the car had done wonders to his head, and by the time he was done he felt relaxed and calm, albeit drained of any and all energy.

Dean headed home then, dead set on that hot shower he had fantasized about earlier. It would be an awesome end to a truly physically and mentally draining day. The hot water could unroll his muscles, and then maybe afterwards he could pull out that issue of _Busty Asian Beauties_- Dean stopped thinking and stepped on the gas.

* * *

The week passed by as uneventfully as they normally do. The car was almost as good as it was gonna get, and then he'd be able to never have to look at the thing again. He loved fixing cars, but some were honestly to much trouble to deal with.

When Dean woke up on Saturday, he couldn't brush off the overwhelming of cabin-fever that he would get every now and then. He'd always lived in such a small town- went to the same places, saw the same people- that every now and then he just had to go out and run or drive somewhere he'd never been before. Dean through on his work-out clothes, not bothering to shower this morning- he'd just do so after he got back.

As he ran down the steps and out the door, he jammed his headphones in his ear and fumbled with the Ipod his brother had thrown his way two Christmas's ago. He'd made a fuss about how this was the thing that destroyed the new generation and caused everyone to listen to fake and crappy music, and how he'd never use it- but what Sam didn't know couldn't hurt exactly hurt him...

Finally, after a lot of cursing and fighting with the device from hell, Dean had it on his playlist and was set to go. The minutes rolled by to the strumming of the epic guitar solos, and every beat brought him one step down the street that would eventually turn off to a new part of town. He turned down streets and random, just 'following the wind', if you will. Eventually, after several more twists and turns down seemingly random roads, he found himself in a fairly high-end part of town- the homes of the more conservative well-off people. They had well-kept lawns and clean glass windows.

Halfway down the sidewalk, AC/DC's _Back in Black_ came on. Dean smiled to himself as he ran and started belting out the lyrics. He was reaching the end of the street, and he felt the build-up of the song before the start of the next chorus. He picked up his pace then and swiveled onto the street, running full out when the sound of the guitar crashed through his ears. The next thing he knew he heard squealing tires and a blaring horn. Opening his eyes in shock, he only had two seconds to see the car heading straight for him. His muscles locked, and he hand barely enough time to back up a step before the car jerked to the left and flew past him. It was as if in slow motion that the car plowed into a light post- colliding with a crash. Dean just stood there, staring in horror at the accident that he knew he had caused. After a moment, Dean came to his senses and jerked towards the car, yanking the headphones out of his ears and throwing them on the ground in the process.

When he reached the car, Dean glanced in the windows. His heart almost stopped when he saw two kids staring back at his through tear-stricken faces. _Fuck._ Dean moved to the driver's window, and saw what caused the kids to look so terrified. In the driver's seat was a woman, most likely their mother, unconscious and face-planted with the steering wheel. A small stream of blood was trailing down her face and dripping onto her pants. Panicking, Dean yanked at the door, trying to get in. When it didn't move, he turned back to the window of the kids and started gesturing wildly at them to unlock the doors. Slowly, with shaky movements, the older of the two fumbled at the lock, and within seconds Dean had the door open and the kids on the sidewalk.

He went back to the parent and carefully got her out of the car. She didn't look too bad, but then again, what the hell did he know about head wounds? He laid her down on the grass, and hastily grasped her wrist to try and catch a pulse. Dean's whole body was shaking, and he had to keep starting over and breathing deeply to try and calm his nerves enough to read on her. After he was sure she wasn't going to drop dead in five seconds, Dean looked up and dashed to the house right across the street. He flew up the steps and rang the alarm. After what felt like waiting a suitable five seconds, Dean started pushing the button repeatedly, desperate for the person to open the door. _'Stupid stupid stupid. Why didn't I bring my phone?'_

After what felt like a year and 500 button pushed later, the door flew open. Standing in the door was a small man with dark hair and wild blue eyes. Wait- the dude from the Bobby's who was the dude from the launderette? Not giving it another seconds thought, Dean stepped into the house and tried to calm him erratic breathing.

"Hello?" The man whispered, quietly. He was standing in a defensive position, but Dean didn't think about it for long. He was a mess after all, and probably had a bit of the woman's blood on him.

"Hi. Um, I'm Dean, Dean Winchester. There was an accident right outside, and I don't have my phone. Can I borrow yours to call the cops? It's urgent. I think, shit, I think someone got hurt."

* * *

**So ya! Once again, a bit short- but I wanted the times to be consistent. In other notes, anyone else going to Dallas Comic-con?  
**

**The song was- for the young ones who do not know- Highway to Hell by AC/DC.**

**May god be with you if you have never heard one of their songs before**

**Please Review!**

**~Magnolia**


	5. Crossing Into Enemy Territory

**Sorry I've been gone for so long! I had End-of-course exams and then COMIC CON and then finals and anyway- I've been busy**

**BUT NOW SCHOOL'S OUT AND SUMMER IS HERE AND I CAN CONSISTENTLY UPDATE FOR YOU GUYS**

**Currently un-betad**

**(rating will change to M in later chapters)**

* * *

**Crossing Into Enemy Territory**

* * *

**I've been searching for someone**

**But never looked before my eyes**

**There you were to my surprise**

**It was so obvious looking into your face**

**(that you were the one for me)**

* * *

Dean honestly thinks he is going to go insane.

The loud tick of the clock hand on the wall pulses through his brain, every second making him cringe and stand on edge. His eyes flick back and forth across the room for what must be the thousandth time, only to consistently land back on the stupid picture of that smiling kid on the wall. It was swinging slowly back and forth in tandem to the cold rush of the air coming from the A/C. The freezing air blew over his skin and made his sweat-covered shirt stick uncomfortably to his skin. He was scared to move or even breathe wrong, and all because of the stupid man sitting next to him.

The man, as he know knew as Castiel, was sitting on the far opposite of the couch, making himself as small as possible. Dean had already made the mistake of sitting a bit to close when they first got to the hospital, and that was not something he wanted to go through again. He had on an oversized sweatshirt and was fiddling with the sleeves and pulling at the threads. When Dean first saw him with it, he entertained the idea that the sweatshirt was his boyfriends, but didn't know how to ask. Things were awkward as it was, he didn't want to think about what would happen if he was wrong.

When the ambulance arrived, Dean and Castiel had been told they had to give statements or something to the police, and had to follow. That had been three hours ago. Over the course of said three hours, the waiting room had filled and eventually emptied, leaving the two of them alone. Every couple of minutes Dean would clear his throat or sharply inhale, as if to say something. He would sit up and turn his head to face the man next to him, after all, awkward silences were never his thing; but every time he'd turn back to facing the wall in front of him and sag back into his seat. He didn't know why this was so difficult; talking to people had always come easy to him.

Finally, after another failed attempt at trying to start a conversation, Dean stood up and quickly mumbled something about going to get coffee. When he did, Castiel's eyes jumped to his face, as if pulled back to reality. His stare caught Dean off guard, and all he could do was stare back into his impossibly blue eyes before awkwardly looking away, rubbing his hand along the back of his neck. After a second Dean repeated himself and started walking off in the direction of the cafeteria, but stopped and turned back to get the small nod of understanding from the other man before exiting.

He didn't quite know what made him get two cups of coffee, it's not like Castiel asked for any, but he decided it would be a bit rude not to, and besides, maybe it would jump start the other man into actually _talking_ to him. With that in mind, Dean let out a small smile and headed back into the waiting room. He sat down on the couch, just a little bit closer than he had before, and handed Castiel the cup. Once he did, he quickly decided to give it a couple of minutes before he said anything. He knew he was just stalling at this point, but he didn't really care.

He played with the cup in his hands a couple of seconds before bringing the mug to his lips. The hot liquid slid down his throat, and even though the coffee itself was crap, he was pleasantly surprised to find it piping hot- just the way he liked it. Finally, Dean steeled his revolve and turned fluidly to face the other man, who was holding the mug loosely in his lap and staring down into it. Dean reached out and lightly touched his shoulder to catch his attention. Dean opened his mouth to start talking but was shocked silent as Castiel recoiled and practically jumped out of his chair. The coffee was flung across the room, but not before the entirety of its contents were sprayed all down Castiel's shirt and pants. When the hot liquid hit his skin, Castiel hissed and his eyes practically bugged out of his skull as he frantically held the sopping fabric away from his skin and jumped to his feet.

"Shit man. I'm so sorry- I" Dean mumbled out as he also stood up and lifted his hands uselessly. After a couple of seconds of just staring at the mess, Dean looks up and swallowed. He found it almost funny how this was the way they were going to start a conversation. Dean mentally cursed whoever had blessed him with such crap luck as he looked at the other man.

Dean started taking off his over shirt, not missing the fact that Castiel's eyes widened at his movements and stepped back a bit further. Gingerly, Dean held out the shirt as if it was a white flag or a fucking olive branch and quickly stuttered out, "So sorry dude. Um- here, put this on. Yours is soaked. Er- I'll just go and… get some towels." Dean practically shoved the shirt into the frozen man's hands before quickly turning and retreating, mentally kicking himself for how stupid he sounded.

When Dean came back with a pile of napkins and towels in hand, he barely restrained the sharp inhale that caused him to jolt to a stop. Castiel had his back to him and was peeling off his shirt. The creamy expanse of his lower back gave rise to scatterings of bruises and harsh lines that marred his back. Dean then looked up as he turned slightly and saw a huge bruise on his shoulder. Before his mind could catch up with what he was saying, he blurted out, "Fuck. What happened to you dude!?" before he mentally cringed at his bluntness and prepared for the other man's reaction.

When Castiel heard Dean's brash comment, panic swept through his body and he quickly pulled the other man's shirt on and buttoned it hurriedly up to the neck. Dean walked over a handed half the stack of towels to Castiel, not looking him in the eyes. Not knowing what to say, Dean busied himself with soaking up the coffee on the floor and the cushion, thanking the lord it was waterproof. Dean _tried_ to not think about the bruises, but he wasn't exactly known for keeping quite. Next thing he knew, he found himself tentatively looking up and addressing the other man again.

"Look- sorry for blurting that out a minute ago- it just took me by surprise. Ah- you don't have to tell me if you don't want to, just, um- you ok man? What did you do?"

When Dean spoke again, Castiel froze for a second before turning to face him. "At the launderette… You are quite strong… and-"Castiel talked quickly and rushed, before his face flushed and he quickly turned away. Slowly, Dean thought about the broken sentences and pieced together what Castiel was trying to say. Dean internally groaned and closed his eyes, trying not to feel sick. "Oh…" was all he could say.

After that, Dean and Castiel fell back into a silence, one far more uncomfortable then the others. After another ten minutes of nothing but the sound of the clock to interrupt the all-encompassing silence, Dean looked at Castiel and started talking to him, this time being careful not to touch him. Slowly, a slow conversation started picking up between the two of them, with simple things such as what they do for a living and their favorite foods. Eventually, Dean found them only a foot away from each other and himself in the middle of an idiotic tale of him at the park with his little brother Sammy and how he seemed to fall and knock over everything on any available surface. Cas, as Dean had started to call him, let his head fall back and laughed. His whole face lit up and the crow's feet around his eyes crinkled, and Dean was lost for a minute over just how good he looked. Castiel's laugh was deep and contagious, and within seconds Dean found himself laughing along with him.

A pointed cough brought Dean back to his senses. Standing in front of them were two policemen, each with matching frowns of disapproval. Dean only minutely felt bad for laughing in a hospital before they addressed Castiel, getting a simple statement on what had occurred. Sobered, Dean frustrated glared at the policemen who hadn't even bothered to apologize for being five fucking hours late.

Dean sat back as they asked Cas the usual questions, nothing original to them. Castiel stammered out answers to the few things he knew, and Dean started to feel bad for the guy. The only reason he was even here was because he was the jackass who had to knock on his door to use the phone. It's not like he had anything whatsoever to do with the accident.

Finally, once the policemen had drilled Cas until they finally came to the mind-blowing conclusion that he truly knew nothing, they turned to Dean and called him up. Cas went back to the couch and crashed down onto it, quickly sinking into the thin cushions. Dean felt something oddly protective spark up in him then, and if he answered all the questions a bit more sarcastic and snarky then he should've then that had nothing to do with the fact that he felt like he owed it to the guy.

When they were done with him, Dean looked back at Cas who looked about two seconds from passing out and chewed on his lip nervously. Cas had driven them both to the hospital, and now Dean didn't really have a way of getting back. Glancing back at the clock, Dean saw that it was past midnight and fuck, he couldn't exactly call anyone to pick him up. Hating that he had to ask more from the guy, Dean cleared his throat and hesitantly asked Cas if he could drive him back to his house.

Cas looked up when he heard Dean addressing him again. Dean's face was blurred, and the corners of his vision were cycling in and out of tendrils of black. Trying to concentrate, Cas nodded dumbly and struggled to his feet. He tried to ignore the worried frown on Dean's face and led him out of the facility to his car. When he went to open the door, Cas tripped and pitched forward, almost face planting with the cement before Dean's arm wound around his waist, steadying him.

"Hey, you ok? Want me to drive?" Dean's voice warped and cracked through his ears. He didn't understand much of what Dean had said, just enough to sluggishly nod and head around to the other side of the car. Dean drove smoothly, and Castiel found himself flowing in and out of consciousness. Only when the car stopped did he look out of the window to see a darkened street they he had never seen before. Not fully remembering what was going on, cold dread seeped into his skin as he struggled to sit up. Right as he was about to launch into a full panic attack, Dean's voice broke through his terror fogged brain.

"Well, this is me. Sorry for all of this, really. It's all my fault. Is there anyway I can make it up to you?"

Castiel blinked as he tried to work around the words that were flung his way. He scrunched his brow and tried to remember what Dean had said, but just couldn't seem to make sense of any of the words. After a moment, Dean laughed, "You are so out of it man. Here- I'll give you my number. Call me tomorrow, ok?"

Dean handed Cas a scrap of paper then, and looked at Cas expectantly. He still wasn't quite sure what Dean was saying, but didn't have the energy to tell him otherwise. Still, Dean was looking at him like he expected an answer. Thinking that nodding was always the safest option, Castiel did, and watched as Dean smiled, and stepped out of the car. When he was halfway to his door, Dean turned around and called his name.

The single syllable pierced through his sleep-addled brain, and Castiel fumbled for the door handle before stepping out. It was all he could do not to crumble to the ground as his knees worked to keep from giving out beneath him. Cas swayed precariously and grabbed onto the hood of the car, trying to see through the haze of blackness the almost completely covered his vision. Squinting, Cas vaguely saw Dean run over to him and say something, before gravity finally won out and sent him to the floor. The unforgiving ground never hit him, though. His vision swam, and he felt strong arms wrap around him and support his weight. As if from a distance, or perhaps underwater, Cas head Dean say, "Hey, what's wrong dude? Hey! Look at me!" Struggling to comply, Cas lifted his eyes, looking for the source of the voice. After long, torturous seconds of searching, Cas landed on Dean's face. It was blurred and hardly distinguishable, but it was his.

Everything about Dean was dulled, swallowed by the blackness, expect for his eyes. Brilliant green, not diminished at all by the darkness around them, shown down on him, as if trying to read his soul. Cas tried to answer Dean, he really did. Tried to tell him not to worry, that he should just go inside; but the words got lost before he could even finished thinking them as he felt himself get dragged under. It felt as if a wool had been pulled over his eyes, or his feet knocked out from under him. The last thing he remembered was one syllable, one sound that sounded so simple and powerful being thrown over his consciousness.

_Cas!_

* * *

**Erm- so ya. Sorry for any mistakes! I'm going to go through it again tomorrow to look for any errors- **

**So... ya! Hoped you liked it! Please review! Your opinions are like- what I live for :)**

**~Magnolia**


	6. Foreign Tea and Black Coffee

**Ok! New chapter! Yay! Halleluyah! :)**

**Currently un-betad**

**(rating will change to M in later chapters)**

* * *

**Foreign Tea and Black Coffee  
**

* * *

The incessant beeping of the machine was what did it. The squealing wheels of the hospital machines and beds that would occasionally roll past the room were one thing, as were the low murmurs. Those he could ignore, if he tried hard enough. But the shrill noise that was never ending- there's only so long he could ignore it and stay blissfully unaware of what was going on around him.

And it was because he was _tired_. Even _thinking _was painful and draining. And besides, what did he have to get up for, anyway? It wasn't like there was anyone waiting to see him, anyone who cared. His job was replaceable, and it wasn't like there was anyone to miss him. All he had to look forward to was more quality time with Meg. So really, waking up was just another level of hell.

It was nice while it lasted. Each ping of the machine that was _right next to his ear_ dragged him upwards. Slowly he began to feel his cramped muscles, the heaviness of each limb. None of that compared to his throat, though. It _burned_. Slowly, he no longer was resisting the urge to wake up, but pushing- fighting his way out of sleep as the furnace in his throat grew. The effort to raise his eyelids was a long-battle well fought, but one that he inevitably lost. Eventually, Castiel gave up, and sunk into himself once again. Feeling even more tired than previous. He resigned himself to his immobility, and was washed away once more into darkness.

* * *

The second time he regained semblance of where he was, he was a little more aware. The infuriating machine was still there, as if its only purpose was to frustrate him and make him want to tear his hair out. After trying and failing to move, Cas decided he might as well take it out on the machine. He imagined a war scene, and being in the front lines. Shooting a gun, getting shot at. The bullet ripping and tearing its way through his leg. The burn.

As he imagined the scene, he felt with minute satisfaction a sort of smugness as the machine picked up speed, pinging more and more rapidly. Inwardly grinning, Castiel kept going. He was running, running and running as his leg burned and bled freely. Explosions went off behind him, and the stench of burning buildings and people filled his nose.

Each addition to the tale sent the machine into an even faster pace. Cas kept going with the story, inwardly celebrating his win over the machine. His fun was cut short, however, with the addition of what sounded like three or more frantic people running into the room. They all started talking loudly, and the sound flooded his ears and pounded into his skull. He grimanced, if only internally, and let go of the scene, settling back in the familiar blackness. Slowly, the machine's beeps evened out, and with it the level of the incomers volume. Relieved, Cas drifted- and once again was forced to remember the pain in his throat.

Every ounce of him wished to call out, to get them to turn and give him water. How could they not tell that he was dying? Because death was really the only explanation to what he felt like. Maybe that's why they weren't giving him water- because he was going to die anyway. He probably only had minutes left to live, hours, if it was going to be dragged out. As the fire licked its way down his throat, Cas fled to the recesses of his mind to escape it. The dark enveloped him like an old friend, and Cas graciously swaddled himself in it, effectively shutting out the pain.

* * *

The third time he surfaced, it was different. It _felt_ different, anyway. This time, he could feel the thin hospital fabric on his skin, and he felt his chest rise and fall with each breathe. He still felt as weak as anything, but at least he felt at all. Now though, the burn in his chest wasn't even funny. It had turned into a deep bred itch, one that he felt all over, but couldn't scratch. Just the swallowing of his spit burned its way slowly down his throat. Cas groaned around the pain, and was surprised when the noise actually repeated itself in his ears, and not just his head.

Surprised that he actually gained control of his body again, Cas concentrated on opening his eyes. Slowly, and after a good amount of false starts, his eyelids lifted- and immediately accosted Cas's senses with bright burning light. Shying away from the light, Cas shut it out and rolled to the side slightly. After a few moments, Cas tried again, hesitantly. Slowly, Cas raised his eyes and adjusted to the unnatural whiteness around him to witness his surroundings.

When he spotted a cup of water on the side table, a few feet away from him, Cas almost cried with happiness. Instead, he laboriously stretched for the glass. The tips of his fingers reached it, and when he tried to stretch those few inches more, he hit the glass. It was with complete and utter frustration that he watched it tip over the edge of the table and hit the ground, spraying water everywhere.

The sound of the glass hitting the floor startled the man sitting in the chair, a man who Cas hadn't even noticed until he looked up. Their eyes locked, and they just stayed that way for a minute, neither moving. Only when Castiel collapsed back on the bed did Dean jump up and pick up the cup. For a few minutes, Cas just peered over the edge of the cot at Dean, scrunching his nose and considering.

"God Cas, bout time you woke up. I was starting to think it would never happen."

Castiel worked his tongue around his mouth, trying to get it to work with him. Finally, his voice hoarse and cracked, he said, "What happened?"

Looking up at him, Dean frowned. "I don't know. You just collapsed back at the car and had to drive you here. Jesus Cas, if I knew you were gonna collapse on me we could've saved ourselves the trip and just stayed here."

While Dean talked, Cas looked at Dean, really looked at him. His eyes, as green as ever, looked sunken in. When he finally convinced himself to not stay locked on the impossible green; he looked lower, seeing the dark circles that lined his eyes. Lower still, his jaw was lined with a 5 o'clock shadow. And… were those yesterday's clothes?

When Dean finished talking, Castiel just watched him for a minute, trying to figure out why he was there, why he was waiting for him. After drawing up blank, Cas opened his mouth, unsure. "You…stayed?"

Dean turned beat red and ducked his head, busing himself with picking up the water. For a minute, Cas started to think he was just not going to answer, until Dean started talking. "Cas- well, I didn't know what was happening! And you just collapsed- and I had to drive you back. And well- I was in your car! And I couldn't exactly just take it and drive off. It was only about 12 hours or so… Plus, I didn't know any of your relatives to call- so it wasn't like I could just leave you here alone. And-"

Dean continued on, talking as fast as possible. Cas couldn't help but sport a faint smile, nor could he help the light fluttering in his stomach. Before he could place whatever that was about, a doctor stepped through the door.

When Dean saw him, he immediately shut up and looked at him, expectantly.

"Well hello Mr… Novak. Nice to see you back with us. You gave us quite a scare, there."

"What happened?" Dean asked, stiffly.

The doctor's eyes flicked to Dean briefly before returning to Castiel.

"You seem to have suffered from an extreme case of sleep deprivation, malnutrition, and dehydration. We got you hooked up to an IV pretty quickly, and your vitals look okay, but I wouldn't try anything overly strenuous for the next couple of days. That being said, you check off on everything, so you're free to go when you feel up to it. We hope not to see you here again, Mr. Novak."

Castiel nodded solemnly, and the doctor left. When the door shut behind him, Dean looked at him, questions obviously bubbling behind the surface. "Hey Cas, What exactly-"

"I don't wish to talk about it, at present", Cas said, stiffly. He didn't want to talk about it; not now, not ever. Especially with this man who was actually talking to him. He already knew Cas was a freak, he didn't need to know the extent of it.

Dean blinked, "Ya sure, fine. Whenever you're ready." Dean paused for a minute, thinking about what he was going to say. "But, I do know how you can make it up to me. For you know, scaring the crap out of me."

Cas said nothing, but looked at him, intrigued. Dean took that as permission to continue. Swallowing thickly, Dean continued. "Well, I'm starving, and judging by what the doctor said, you are too. And there's this coffee shop about five minutes from here, if you wanna get coffee or…"

"I'm not overly fond of coffee."

"Oh." Dean looked down, suddenly very intrigued with his shoe laces.

"But-" Cas continued after a moment's hesitation, "I do happen to enjoy the selection of teas offered, if we are both referring to the same coffee shop."

Dean just stared at him for a moment, processing what he had said. "Yeah- tea works. No problem with tea. Awesome." If a grin spread across his face, then he had nothing to do with it. He was just… happy that the guy was ok, that's all. It had nothing to do with the fact that they were going to go to a café for brunch or anything.

Within the hour they were out the door, Dean keeping a careful eye on Cas as they walked to the car. When he made it there without any incident, Dean allowed himself to breathe a little easier.

He slid into the drivers seat, and only once Cas got in did he realize that this was Cas' car. "Oh, sorry dude. I never gave you back the keys. Here- if you want to drive we can just switch-"

"It's fine, Dean."

Nodding slightly embarrassed, Dean eased the car out of the parking lot and drove them to the café. They didn't talk, but it wasn't an uncomfortable silence. It was…nice. When they pulled up, both of them got out and walked into the café. The lighting was perfect, not to dark and awkward but also not to bright. It was perfect conversation lighting that also came with the feeling of being private.

They ordered, Dean and Cas respectively ordering a black coffee and Bai Hao White Oolong tea. They sat down, and when the waiter brought over their drinks, Dean couldn't help but jibe lightly at Cas' choice in beverage.

"Don't critique something you've never had, Dean. For the record, this tea is a mix of Taiwanese peaches mixed with jasmine and chili. It is quite appealing."

"They put chili powder in tea? Since when?"

"You can try it, if you like."

Dean stared at the mug apprehensively. Eventually, he decided he couldn't exactly back down from trying the mixture, so he took the mug in hand and carefully sipped. When the mix of flavors hit his tongue, he tried to suppress the appreciative moan threatening to escape.

"It- I guess it's ok."

Smiling slightly, Cas took back the cup and drank.

"I think so too."

They talked then, about random things. Dean made sure to steer clear of mentioning anything that had to do with the hospital, and simply kept it light. Before they even knew it, their waiter was back to take away their long-since empty mugs.

"Would you two like to share a slice of coffee cake?" She inquired, politely, looking back and forth between the two.

"Do you have pie?" Dean asked before fully registering all she implied.

"Of course, we are known for our cherry. I'll bring it out right away." She disappeared behind counter as Dean called out, "Wait- we aren't- oh forget it."

A few minutes later she returned, proudly putting the slice in between them along with two forks. "Enjoy", she said smiling. "Call me over if you guys need anything else."

"Right", Dean said, off hand. His mouth started watering the second he saw beautiful creation in front of him. Looking up, he noticed an expression of blank curiosity on Cas's face.

"What- dude, do you not like pie or something?"

"I… haven't had occasion to have any, no."

"You- haven't tried pie? Cas! It's one of the finer things in life! Come on- try some!" Dean scooped a healthy bite onto the fork and thrust it out towards Castiel's face. Seeing the look of slight hesitation, Dean wiggled the fork, "Come on man, it's good, trust me."

Cas accepted it then, and slowly chewed the food. The flavor burst over his tongue, filling his mouth with a sweet flavor.

"It's pleasant", Cas admitted, slowly.

"Damn right its pleasant", Dean said, grinning. He then reached for the other fork and dug in.

They talked further, discussing what they did for fun and the artists and bands they liked. At one point in the conversation, Dean glanced at his watch out of habit. When he noticed the time, however, he inwardly groaned.

"Oh shit. Hey Cas, could you drive me to the garage? I work there and I'm going to be late if I have to stop at my house. It's not far from here…"

"I'd be happy to", Cas interrupted, smoothly.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Dean got out of the car and leaned against the driver's side window.

"Hey Cas, this has been great. I don't go out much and this was… it was nice. Do you want to, I don't know, hang out again sometime?"

Cas smiled softly. It was nice, something he hadn't remembered doing in a while. "Of course."

Dean's smile grew. "Awesome. You still have my number?"

"I- don't recall ever getting it."

"Hey! All good! Here, give me yours. I'll call you later."

* * *

When Cas finally returned home, blissfully Meg free, he immediately dropped onto his bed. Never mind it was barely the middle of the day, he was tired. He fell asleep almost immediately. Into a blissfully dream free sleep.

A kind he couldn't say he had experienced in a while.

* * *

**So- what do you think? I'm not quite sure when I started writing Dean as an awkward lover puppy man, but alas, I did. Anyway- I am sunburned, depressed as hell that I couldn't go to A-kon, but relieved that I got this chapter out. Seriously- writer's block sucks :(**

**Hope you liked it! Please review!**

**~Magnolia**


	7. Unexpected Item in the Bagging Area

**Sorry guys! Hit a huge writers block and didn't quite know what I wanted to happen next...**

**Anyway- It's cured- and I have the next couple chapers outlined and ready to go, so yay for planning ahead!**

**Special thanks to mishafreemanforking and sackstiel for forcing my lazy ass to get writing again :)**

**Currently un-betad**

**(rating will change to M in later chapters)**

* * *

**Unexpected Item in the Bagging Area**

* * *

**Whatever this world can give to me**

**It's you you're all I see**

**Ooh you make me live now ****honey**

**Ooh you make me live**

It's funny, how fast days go by when you actually have something to look forward to; especially if that thing included hanging out with Dean.

The first time they met up again, it was rather by accident. Every two weeks or so, Castiel had to make the trip to go to the store. There were only so many non-perishables he could buy, and that left him going to the store to quickly grab milk, eggs, and a few vegetables. Every time he went, Castiel felt everyone's eyes on him. He _hated_ having to walk down the aisles and squeeze past people; hated the stares as he hunched in on himself and kept to the walls as he navigated around the store. His hood was always pulled over his head- hey, if he couldn't see them, then maybe the rule applied both ways- maybe they couldn't see him, either.

He wished he believed it.

Instead, he just grasped at the thinning sleeves of his sweatshirt and quickly grabbed the essentials before heading over to the checkout line. Careful to keep his hood up, Castiel looked over the brim of the hood to see the lanes. It would be just his luck that there was only one cashier, and the line was fairly packed, there was no way he could stand waiting in that line.

It was with a sinking feeling in his gut did he realize that he was going to have to use the self-checkout. He loathed them, the machines. They were loud, difficult, and overall embarrassing. No matter what you did they wouldn't work with you. But at the moment he wasn't given much choice, so he resolutely set his items on the side and got ready to work hells-gadget. Slowly, with overdone precision, he was sure, he scanned each of the items and bagged them one at a time. Slowly. Meticulously. Each one went in without a hitch, and Cas allowed himself to breathe a bit as he finished with most of the items. Of course it was at that moment though, when it felt like everything went to hell.

"I'm sorry, unexpected item in the bagging area."

He didn't do anything

"Unexpected item in the bagging area."

He hadn't touched anything

"Please removed the unexpected item from the bagging area before continuing."

"I- I didn't"

"Please wait for a store employee of manager before continuing your checkout"

Groaning, Cas let his head fall forward and rested his hands on the machine, resisting the urge to just walk out of punch the machine. It was 50/50, at this point.

"Mr; We don't really take nicely to you abusing our machines."

Cas whirled around, voice catching in his throat just as he was bursting to defend himself. "No! No I didn't do anything! I- Dean?"

Castiel couldn't tell which was more shocking; the fact that Dean Winchester was once again standing in front of him or the fact that he was wearing a store shirt with a little name tag reading 'Hello, My name is Adam."

Dean just rocked back on his heels. "Oh, sorry sir, you must have me confused for someone else. My name's Adam. See?" Dean vary obviously tapped at the name tag several times, not without adding in an over the top winking display- of course.

"Er…"

"Hey! These machines are getting old anyway, not the easiest to work with. Here, let me just-"

Dean leaned over him them, and slowly typed in some master password. If his eyes glued to the stretch of his shirt over his taunt stomach, it was just an accident. A really, _really_ unfortunate accident…

"There! Should let you finish bagging then, Cas. Shit! I mean er, sir."

Still not quite sure what game Dean was playing at, Cas once again went to bag the apples after punching in the code.

"I'm sorry, unexpected item in the bagging area."

Cas just glared at the machine. It was the one who declared war, not him. He was done being civil. What the hell did he do to it? He clenched his jaw and closed his eyes, trying to keep from all out making a scene.

"Dude! Stop death-glaring the machine. You might fry the main frame."

"That's the objective." Cas said, glowering.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Here- let me do it."

"No! It's fine, it's just checking out a couple apples. I can do it."

"Calm down soldier, this is one battle you can't win. Sheesh, surrender now and come back to fight another day. There's a line forming, you can defend your honor later."

A deep blush spread from his ears all the way down his neck. Castiel ducked his head and shifted to the side and tried his best to ignore Dean's chuckle.

"…And there you go. One rogue bag of apples bagged and ready to face the courts. Should I read them their rights?"

"Uh. Dean?"

"Adam."

"Right, Adam, that reference- I'm not quite sure what you were trying to say."

The look of shock on his face was funny enough without Dean practically chocking on his own spit. Not knowing whether to be offended by Dean's reaction or not, Cas chose to be neither and just stand by and wait for Dean to get over…_ whatever_ he was going through h.

"Aww Cas buddy, you are so stuck in the wrong century. Here, I'm not doing my job, and I'm pretty sure the lady in line behind you is about to pop a gasket, so- I got these, let's go to your car."

As Dean talked, he grabbed two of the bags and stared expectantly and Cas, almost as if he were daring him to say something.

"I didn't drive here-"

"Yes you did. Let's go"

Dean practically dragged Castiel out of the store, only stopping when they made it around the corner.

"Dean- I honestly don't have my car here. My apartment was only a block away, I-"

"That's not the point, Cas- I needed an excuse to come outside. The employer's a hardasses, man. I haven't gotten a break yet!"

"Dean- you don't work here."

"Dude, when you see a man in uniform, you don't question it."

Castiel shifted on his feet and just stared up at Dean, choosing to ignore his response. When Dean noticed the shift in Castiel's stance, he raised his eyebrows and stared back, not giving an inch. After a good 3 years, (or fine, more like 20 seconds. It sure felt like three years. The intensity of his eyes caused Dean to drown, burn up, dissolve, and/or loose himself in what felt like an irreparable way) Dean huffed out a laugh and relaxed his stance. Taking that as a sign that Dean would actually start getting serious, Castiel turned back to his question.

"Who even _is_ Adam?"

"Oh yeah," Dean's smile grew wider, "He's my brother. Well; half-brother. He goes to high school around here and bailed to go study for some test or something. Somehow or other he convinced me to cover his shift."

"I never knew you were one to volunteer your time."

"Hey! I'm a total boy scout! Bought their popcorn once and everything."

"You're very odd, Dean Winchester."

"Says the guy whose ass was handed to him by a checkout machine."

"That…is not of import."

"_Sure_ it's not.

"Don't you have work to be doing, Adam?"

"Woah there, Cas! Do I sense a bit of hostility?"

"You sense nothing."

Dean loved this, the banter. He hadn't been able to do so in such a long time with anyone, and it felt nice to finally be able to trade subtle jibes and comments. He hadn't done it since he still lived with Sammy, and it had been a good five years since the kid up and moved to California.

Dean was thrown back into reality when he realized how close they were standing together. He could count his eyelashes, if he wanted to- and oh god he wanted to…

"Winchester! Please refrain from socializing during _work_ hours. If you're done here, I'd appreciate it if you would preformed your assigned duties."

"Fuck," Dean whispered under his breath, "Yes, Mr. Adler. I'll be there."

"As expected."

Mr. Adler went back in the building, and Dean let out and audible groan. "Adam better be lucky I don't want that kid fired. I swear, if I have to look at the leer on his stupid face one more time…"

"I can imagine, " Cas smiled, "but you can save that speech for a later date, if you're serious about not wanting to get him fired, that is."

Dean cracked a small smile, "I'll hold you to that."

"I'll look forward to it."

Cas backed up, and started walking down the street before turning back, "Goodbye, Adam."

Cas heard a quite snort coming from behind him, "Have a good evening, _sir_. Hope you found everything to your satisfaction."

'_I think I did_,' Cas thought, shyly.

The walk home wasn't nearly as eventful.

* * *

Dean followed through on his promise to finish his rant, it turned out. And one rant led to a lengthy discussion over the benefits of prime time television which led to having to relocate to a restaurant to finish up their conversation.

One day out led to two, then to three. Shortly, Cas found himself going out of the house to meet up with Dean two to three times a week. He still found the whole thing extremely surreal. He didn't even feel like the same person when he was with Dean. He felt like someone…lighter.

He found himself replacing many of the feeble items in his wardrobe with new ones. He took a particular liking to pristine button up shirts, as well as dark jeans. Slowly, Cas built up a life for himself. Each renovation was slow, as well as painful, but he was improving.

And he was happy.

* * *

**First off, if you are reading this today, then apologies. I'm gone all day so I didn't get a moment to re-re read what I wrote; so anything I don't like will be fixed by Sunday.**

**Do you know what frustrated me? The fact that this was supposed to be literally no more then one page. I had planned to have soooo much more happen in this chapter, but then I find myself 5 pages in and still on the first bulletin on my outline and that kids- was the moment I realized I was screwed. Like, what was supposed to be chapter 7 is now gonna be chapters 7, 8, and 9... Anyway- hoped you liked this fluffy chapter! (you're gonna need it very soon)**

**Anyway- See you next week! And I hope to hear what you think so far :)**

**(Song: You're My Best Friend- Queen)**

**~Magnolia**


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